Dusty Shelves
by Niatigra
Summary: Yao is trying to get his house in order, when a friend calls in to visit. Not wanting to be haunted by his loneliness in his empty house, he decides company isn't a bad idea...Or is it? (May be a while for the second chapter...)


"What?! No, not today…..Why not today, aru? I have things to do…..Okay….No, it...Aiyah...OKAY...Bye." The phone beeped as Yao pressed the red button, setting it on the table as he ran his fingers through his unbrushed hair. He didn't need company while he was trying to clean.

It was Saturday, and the house had gradually fell into a messy state, making Yao slightly unnerved by little things getting out of place and lost. He had been picking up around the house, and sweeping the kitchen when Ivan called. He said he wanted to visit, but Yao knew he would either get in the way or distract him. "Why not today he asks...Aiyah…" Yao looked at a dent in the counter Taiwan had made countless years ago. He chuckled and recalled that it was made by a utensil of some sort being swung around carelessly. This lead to another thought: it was awfully quiet nowadays.

The house was once a busy and full environment. Children's laughter rang through the halls, staining the day a lovely kindness. The daily routine of meals and dressing took up the mornings, and the noon was when everyone went outside for the day. Yao sighed as he slipped through faint reminders that he was living alone again.

Living alone takes a toll on someone who was used to noise throughout the day. He looked back at the phone, mind wavering over the idea that maybe company would be a better idea than a day of silent cleaning. But then he thought of how Ivan could get. He would get bored, then ask to go do something and drag Yao along with him, then nothing would get done. Yao's sleeve brushed the table as he turned, unable to decide what to do. "Well…"

"Oh, Yao! It so nice to see you, da?" Ivan walked into the small hallway, removing his clunky brown boots and setting them into the corner. Yao lead him into the living room, taking his jacket and hanging it on the larger coat hanger that glistened a pale gold on the wall. Ivan followed suit, smiling that twitchy looking grin of his. His pale, sandy hair was swept to the side of his face, and his shirt was buttoned neatly.

He loved visiting Yao, even if it troubled him a long and lonesome trip. The warm home smelled of fresh tea and sunlight, making Ivan take a deep breath and letting it go only after he had taken his fill from the scent. He sighed with a small laugh, and walked behind Yao as he lead. Yao glanced back, his ponytail swerving away from the steady swing it had when he was walking. "It's nice to see you too, aru."

Pulling out a chair from the corner, Yao placed it near the small glass coffee table that sat in the middle of the room. The sun hit the glass on the table, sending a flurry of color bleeding onto the wooden boards and painting the dull brown an array of thin colors. The color fascinated the Russian, making him kneel to the floor and touch the color in awe. "Yao, how does the glass do that?"

He looked up at the confused man, who watched Ivan kneel and point to the glass's reflection of the sun. Yao chuckled and sat down next to Ivan. "This? Oh, it's just the sun as it passes through the glass, aru. Color spectrum and all." He pointed to each color, and explained how the sun is broken up, but then put together differently after passing through the glass. After the small lesson, Ivan smiled. "You're so smart, Yao!~" He chuckled, looking up at Yao with wide lavender eyes. Yao cleared his throat, nodding. "Glad to help, aru." He moved to get up, but Ivan's large hand held his wrist on the floor.

"Ivan! Knock that off, aru." He shook his arm, trying to get the firm hand off of his wrist and groaned. "Ivan, please?" He looked at Ivan with a face that always made Ivan melt. His eyes were slanted, a small push of the bottom lip and a sigh was usually Yao's answer to petty disputes with Ivan .

"Yao, can I help you clean? I promise I won't break anything, da?" Ivan smiled, keeping a grip on Yao's little wrist. It was warm from the sleeves that hid Yao's hands, making Ivan grin wider. The face that Yao thought would free him made Ivan giggle internally, but he kept a smile on his face to assure Yao he wasn't letting go just yet. Yao looked over his shoulder, then back to Ivan.

"I...Guess you can help, aru….Just stay out of my cabinet and fridge, aru." He pointed his other finger at Ivan, making a stern face. Yao really would have preferred Ivan just sit on the couch, but if he did that he may complain and ask more things that would take time from the work.

Ivan let go, his voice rejoicing. "Yay!~ Thank you!" Yao got up quickly, smoothing out his crinkled kimono top and huffing quietly to himself before grabbing a broom to hand to Ivan.

"You'd better behave, aru."

"No worries Yao, da?"

The house was clean, the tea was hot, and Yao was in the bedroom fixing the new curtains on the window. They had the symbols of Live, Laugh and Love painted delicately onto the deep red fabric. "These are nice, aru." Yao mumbled to himself, half a song, and the other half things he had to do or was doing. He narrated the job, then when he finished he laughed lightly. The room had never looked this clean, even when he vigorously tried to tidy it. Ivan had taken it upon himself to reach every nook and cranny of that room, and did a pretty great job.

When Yao had earlier come in to check on Ivan, though, he lay face down in the sheets. Yao had tapped his shoulder, to make sure he was okay. Ivan had mumbled, and flipped over to pull the absolutely unwilling Yao onto the bed.

Yao yelped like a small dog being forced away from it's mother. He fell onto the bed, scowling that squashed nose and bent lip scowl. "Ivan, that's not funny, aru!" Ivan, watching the timber of the small Chinese man was giggling childishly. "Come lay with me, da? It's comfy!" He smiled over, quickly thinning his lips as Yao's displeasure was made prominent. Sitting up, Yao fixed his ponytail, taking two chunks of the hair and pulling them in opposite directions to tighten the bundle.

"Don't be mad Yao, just playing da?" Ivan held himself up with his wide elbows, looking rather hurt Yao took the tug harshly. Yao huffed, mumbling to himself. Standing, the flustered Chinese man plucked a duster that lay on the red dresser beside the bed and walked out. His small feet made a heavier sound than they usually did, and the echoing of his anger could be heard in the hall. Ivan sat there for a moment then got up and shifted his foot back into his rough boots.

He continued to clean somberly, singing an old lullaby. As he sang, Ivan didn't notice the door open a crack with brown eyes peering in. Yao watched with a curious gaze as Ivan sung, fascinated with his voice. It was deep and mysterious, but Yao couldn't help but wonder why Ivan wouldn't use it more often. He sighed softly, pulling away from the door.

Ivan tuned his hearing in to what he thought was footsteps in the hall, and shook his head with a grin. He knew all too well. Yao made his way into the dining room, picking up needless things and setting them where they didn't belong, then picking them up again to set them in another spot they didn't belong. He ran around, a timeless and fragile piece of pottery clutched in his hand to decide it's new resting spot where it would collect more filth and have to be fussed over again.


End file.
